


Waiting Room

by coffee_mage



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Ravagers cuddle, Recovery, Serious Illness, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-01 08:56:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10918533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffee_mage/pseuds/coffee_mage
Summary: Peter was immortal for years before he knew it was even possible.  In all that time, he was never sick.  Now he's got a fully Terran biology and no idea what things in space can make a human sick.  A quick dip in the ocean brings the team to the realization that they need to back him up.





	1. Chapter 1

Peter Quill couldn't swim.  It had never occurred to him that he couldn't.  Missouri had been landlocked and, after his mother got sick, there hadn't been much time to go to the public pool.  Any creeks or rivers had been out of the question since the doctors said any small illness could kill her.  He hadn't realized it at the time, but his elementary school had been quite poor and there hadn't been a pool there nor had anyone marched the children to the local YMCA for lessons.  Then he'd been in space, where water was at something of a premium.  It wasn't something you wasted.  Bathing and showering were done quickly and efficiently and often with some kind of ultrasonic or air wave to remove dirt and grime.  Swimming hadn't ever really come up.  He'd never had the opportunity to learn it wasn't something he could do.  
  
He realized he couldn't swim at one of the worst possible times to do so, as his boot jets cut out thanks to an unlucky hit and he plummeted into an ocean.  As the water sped towards him, he barely had the time to shout a curse before the liquid closed over his head and the icy temperature of it made him gasp.  Water filled his mouth and nose, salty and burning and though his momentum slowed, he moved downwards.  He had a faint idea that he should kick his legs, so he did, but the boots were heavy and the water was like fire in his lungs, making him cough and gasp.  
  
He'd panicked before.  He'd been terrified and thought he was going to die.  He'd watched light stab him through the chest and known he was moments from the end, that there was nothing he could do and the world as he knew it was over.  He discovered a new level of panic, something beyond that, as his body made him try to breathe and nothing but icy saltwater hit his lungs.  He couldn't collect his thoughts enough to remember how to activate his mask. The surface was so far away and the light was blacking out and if he didn't get to the surface he'd die but his boots were so heavy and his lungs burned and his jacket was dragging at him, pulling him down, down and he couldn't get it off.  It just tangled around his arms, holding his wrists together behind his back like some kind of handcuffs, making it impossible to escape.  
  
Just as the world went black and he heard a high pitched buzz that was completely incongruous with being underwater, he felt a hand on his arm, dragging his jacket up behind him, maybe pulling him upwards, but he couldn't focus enough to see who it was.  He couldn't find enough consciousness to even particularly care.  
  
  
  
Waking up came as something of a surprise, albeit a surprise filled with intensely painful coughing and sudden vomiting.  That was fun.  It was even more fun when Gamora's face swam into focus and he realized he'd vomited on her shirt.  "Sorry," he croaked.  
  
"No need," she said, though the disgust was evident in her face.  "You survived.  My shirt can be cleaned."  
  
They were on shore.  The battle was over and the ship was hovering overtop of them.  There was a rock digging into Peter's side and seriously, his chest was killing him.  He was pretty sure Gamora had punched him in the solar plexus or something.  "Thanks," he muttered, coughing some more.  "That sucked."  
  
The tractor beam took them both up to the ship and he found a hot shower and a set of warm, dry clothes, occasionally coughing up little splatters of saltwater that made him gag.  No matter how many layers of clothing he put on, he couldn't get the shivering to stop.  He thought about spending more time in the shower, longed for it, but everyone else was cold and wet and since they'd pulled his sorry ass out of the drink, he couldn't begrudge them the time to get clean and warm themselves.  He buried himself in blankets, pulling them up around his neck and looping one up over his head like a hood.  He made himself into a little ball on one of the benches in the kitchen, hoping that if he looked pathetic enough, maybe Drax would make hot drinks when he got out of the shower.    
  
It wasn't Drax who came back to the kitchen first, it was Kraglin.  He examined the cupboards, selecting a few things and moments later the kitchen smelled of home and comfort.  Peter sighed happily and rested his chin on the table as he watched Kraglin stir an entire bottle of liquor into the pot.  Liquor, sweetener, seasonings and fruit simmered together and Kraglin stirred and stirred, never letting the bottom overheat, refusing to let it scorch.  The floral notes began to seep into the air, a scent that meant it was almost done and Kraglin turned off the heat.  At long last, he scooped it into mugs and slid one down for Peter.  Peter clutched it eagerly in both hands.  He used his elbow and lifted away enough blankets to let Kraglin slide in under them.  Xandarians of all subspecies were warmer than humans and Peter snuggled in against Kraglin, taking advantage of that.  
  
"You're 'bout as cold as space," Kraglin complained, though he didn't pull away.  
  
"Ocean was cold.  Didn't know water could get that cold," Peter said, and his teeth clattered against one another like he'd gone on a quick jaunt through an airlock.  
  
"Salt keeps the water from freezing.  It gets colder that way.  Probably a good thing or you'd be splattered all over the damn ice."  
  
"How'd you get to know so much about water?  Thought you grew up in the sublevels of Hrax?"  
  
"Scooped up cold seawater once on a resupply and as soon as it went through the desalinators, it froze the damn plumbing solid.  Sixty Ravagers on a ship and not a single working sanitary unit.  Stole a few datadisks from an old library so I could make sure it wasn't going to happen again."  
  
Peter nodded, resting his head on Kraglin's shoulder and closing his eyes.  It made sense.  He'd bet any money that Kraglin had flushed the datadisks down a sanitizer before anyone had seen them.  Kraglin put one arm around his shoulders as he started to drift off and he was infinitely grateful for that when he startled awake at the sound of footsteps heading into the kitchen.  It was only Kraglin's arm that kept him from toppling backwards off the bench.  
  
"There's intiche in the pot," Kraglin said, squeezing Peter a little harder as he swayed in place.  The strong arm held Peter still enough he could look around.  
  
"What's that?" Gamora asked suspiciously, sniffing the pot.  
  
"Ravager drink," Peter said, then coughed into both hands hard as the words caught in his throat.  "Usually we have it after spacewalks.  Chases the cold right out of you."  
  
"I am sure it just numbs you to it.  There is enough alcohol in that to drown in."  
  
"No one's making you drink it.  I made enough for everyone, but Peter 'n I'll take care of it if no one else wants it.  He's cold enough."    
  
"You're still cold?" Gamora asked, getting a mug out of the cupboard.  
  
"He'll be cold awhile," Kraglin said.  "Far as I can tell, Terrans work like Xandarians if you get their lungs cold.  No defenses there and you get chilled on the inside.  Gotta get him warm or he'll get sick."  
  
"I don't get sick," Peter said, slumping against Kraglin again now that he'd determined there was no threat.  
  
"Not if you get warm," Kraglin agreed easily.  "Pretty sure Terrans are more resilient than Xandarians that way.  Never saw you sick even when you was little."  
  
Gamora took a cautious sip of the intiche, glanced into the cup and took a deeper, more satisfied sip.  "This is good," she said, heading for the other bench.  She watched Kraglin and Peter as if uncertain what they were doing.  
  
"Get under the blankets," Kraglin commanded.  "You went under too."  
  
"I'm not particularly cold," Gamora said.  "My body temperature recovers more quickly than most due to my enhancements.  The cybernetics vent heat through my skeleton."  
  
"Doesn't matter.  You get spaced, you go in a frozen ocean, you get up and you get in a pile.  S'how it works."  Kraglin lifted the blankets on Peter's other side in invitation.  
  
Gamora looked back and forth between them uncertainly.   
  
"You don't have to," Peter said, tugging the blanket back into place.  The air was so cold and the blanket was warm and he hated Gamora looking so confused and besides, it was a Ravager thing and Gamora wasn't a Ravager, would never be.  She was better than that.    
  
She stood next to the bench, frozen in place a moment, then seemed to come to a conclusion.  She swept around the table, bringing her intiche, and dug her way into the blankets next to Peter.  Peter gave her a little smile then hunched over his mug, trying to absorb every bit of warmth he could.  Long sips of intiche burned on the way down, spreading tiny swirling eddies of warmth through his body.  They disappeared after a moment, swallowed by the cold, but each stayed longer than the last.  He rested his forehead against the table between sips, fighting off sleep and he was glad he did as Mantis then Drax then Groot all joined them at the table.  Drax was the only holdout from the blankets, complaining irritably that all of the blankets on the ship irritated his skin.  
  
Finally, just when Peter was beginning to worry that something had happened to Rocket and no one had told him, Rocket came in, looking fluffier than Peter had ever seen him.  He smiled into his mug so Rocket wouldn't see.  
  
Mantis began to giggle, not cowed by Rocket's glare.  "You are so cute!  I wish to hug you until your eyes burst!"  
  
He rolled his eyes and shook himself, which only fluffed him up further, though he did take a step away from her.  "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.  You try getting fur dry without it all standing on end.  S'that intiche?"  
  
"Yeah," Kraglin said around carefully contained laughter.  Peter could feel his ribcage twitching as he tried not to laugh.    
  
"Only good thing 'bout sharing a ship with Ravagers," Rocket said approvingly, climbing up onto the counter so he could serve himself.  "Don't know what you a-holes put in that shit, but I've never had it when it didn't exactly hit the spot."  
  
"Never gonna know what we put in it," Kraglin said.  "It's a secret."  
  
"It cannot be a secret," Drax said.  "You made it of ingredients from shared cupboards.  I could discover the recipe merely by examining what's missing."  
  
Peter sensed an argument coming up, one that would leave everyone irritated and he was just too tired to deal with it.  "No you can't," he said.  "Kraglin carries some of the ingredients with him.  We all do."  It was a lie, but he didn't feel bad about it if it meant his team wouldn't end up at war with each other.  
  
"That's a line of shit if I ever heard one," Rocket said, hopping nimbly down from the counter and reaching up to get his mug.  "Doesn't matter, though.  Drax, don't try making intiche.  You'll get Kraglin all uptight and pissy if you get it right and he'll just be smug as hell if you fail."  
  
"Get the balance wrong and it tastes like shit," Peter mumbled, resting his cheek on the table.  "Yondu was awful at it."  
  
"Yondu liked to put in hagal fruit.  Centauri like bitter more than most species."  Kraglin squeezed Peter a little tighter, a small catch in his voice.  
  
"Used to have to put in extra sweetener to get his down."  
  
"You used to drown yours in sweetener."  
  
"I was a kid.  Kids like sweet stuff."  
  
"Not like you.  Terrans gotta have the biggest sweet tooth of all."  
  
"Rocket likes candy too.  Maybe it's an Earth thing."  
  
"I'm not actually from Earth," Rocket drawled, leaning against the counter with both hands around his mug.  "And I'm definitely not even close to your species."  
  
"Nah, but there's things that look like you.  Hide in our yards and trees and stuff, steal food from us."  Peter's eyes were closing in spite of himself.  
   
"I'm not a raccoon, Quill."  
  
"'Kay."  Fighting was too much work and his shut eyes made him warmer.  
  
"Should we let him sleep?" Gamora asked, her voice coming from far away.  
  
"Intiche always made him fall asleep," Kraglin replied and Peter felt him pull him in tighter.  "Think it's the krawshi."  
  
"More like it's the whole cuddling thing.  What the hell is it with Ravagers and cuddling, anyway?" Rocket demanded.  "It's soft, s'what it is."  
  
Peter got shoved more upright as Kraglin stiffened and he raised his head.  "It's not soft," Kraglin snapped.  "It's just sleepin'."  
  
"It's cuddling.  You all pile up like some kind of animal.  It's not decent."  
  
"You're gonna tell me about decent?" Kraglin demanded, standing up.  Peter's side went cold almost instantly and a sad little sound escaped him before he could clamp down on it.  
  
"Yeah, maybe I am.  You all pile up like that with the touching and the droolin' and the snorin' and the stuffed damn toys and it's like you're a buncha kids.  No wonder you get your asses handed to you all the time.  No one who's any kind of decent does that outside of prison."  
  
Peter sighed and heaved himself to his feet, trying not to shake.  "Both of you need to calm down.  Kraglin, Rocket's an idiot.  Rocket, you're an idiot.  Neither of you is going to beat the other into a bloody pulp or shoot the other.  So both of you need to shut up and sit down."  He was shivering so hard his voice was shaking.  
  
"It's not my fault Ravagers fake their way into their reputation," Rocket said.  
  
"Shut up, Rocket," Peter snapped.  "No one was going to invite you under the blankets because we're not idiots.  You don't have to insult everyone to keep us from wanting to touch you.  Just stay over there.  Kraglin, he's being an a-hole so he doesn't have to cuddle.  He's completely transparent if you just pay attention."  
  
"I'm not transparent!" Rocket protested.  
  
"He blocks the light thoroughly," Drax said.  
  
Peter threw his hands up over his head.  "I'm going to bed.  Everyone better be alive and the blood better be cleaned up by the time I get up."


	2. Chapter 2

Rocket's nose twitched and he sniffed at the air.  That was the fourth or fifth time he'd smelled whatever that was and he didn't like it.  It smelled like decay, almost.  He'd checked Groot over but he wasn't suffering from any kind of blight, thank the stars.  The scent remained, though, and it bothered him.  It kept swirling past his nose, making it impossible to focus on the weapon he was modifying.  He set it down, carefully, and walked through the ship, nose in the air.  He had to find the source of the scent.  It smelled like something that might make him sick and if there was one thing that Rocket absolutely hated more than anything else, it was being sick.  
  
"What are you doing?" Gamora asked as he inspected the cockpit, sticking his nose into corners and climbing up onto the seats.  
  
"Smell something bad."  
  
"The ship's filthy.  Ravagers aren't hygienic."  
  
Didn't Rocket know it?  He'd rarely smelt anything as bad as a Ravager ship and then he'd found himself living on one.  Even if the Ravagers were few and far between on it, the evidence of their former presence was in every breath he drew.  "Neither's Groot.  This is different.  Smells stronger here."  He sniffed carefully at one of the seats.  "It's disgusting."  
  
Gamora was watching him and it sent his skin crawling, made him think she saw an animal, not a person.  "Perhaps Peter skipped his shower?"  
  
"Different smell.  You can't smell it?  It's awful."  
  
"I can't.  What does it smell like?"  
  
"Decay.  I started smelling it... two cycles ago?  But it's getting stronger."  
  
"Kitchen?"  
  
"No.  Tried that."  Rocket sighed and rubbed at his face.  "It's strongest anywhere Quill's been a lot."  
  
"He's tried some awful colognes before."  
  
Rocket shook his head.  "It started out too subtle to be something he's done on purpose.  I'm going to go check on him.  It's not right.  He's not supposed to have that kinda smell."  
  
"He's probably got something rotting in his room.  I'm not sure he's ever changed the sheets on a bed."  
  
"He's sharing with Kraglin."  Rocket wrinkled his nose.  "Kraglin's a little better about eating shit rather than leaving it.  Quill's the one what hoards stuff."  
  
"Why _are_ they sharing?  We've got enough room."  
  
"They're Ravagers.  They just do that.  It's not sanitary."  He shuddered, the idea of other people's hands on him while he was at his most vulnerable making his skin crawl.  "They just sleep in piles.  Kraglin's high enough ranked he probably slept in the smaller piles with his captain and whoever was in favour but he's not going to like sleeping on his own."  It was bad enough any time he was in prison.  He'd find a wall and try and stay close to it, minimize contact but it was unavoidable no matter how hard he tried.  The fact that Quill actually enjoyed it made him wonder about the Terran's sanity.  
  
"I do not understand it.  It's not a defensible position."  
  
"Ravagers ain't like regular people.  They're...  They trust each other, least 'til they attack each other and try and mutiny and shit."  
  
"You speak as though you have spent time on Ravager ships?"  
  
"Groot and me paid them to transport us a few times.  Both of us is legally enough of a person to be a crook but not enough to get our own ship."  
  
"That's idiotic."  
  
"You're tellin' me.  Gave me time to figure out all the reasons Ravagers are terrible, though."  
  
"How do they not keep one another awake?"  
  
Rocket shrugged.  "Your guess is as good as mine.  But Quill and Kraglin are Ravagers and they're gonna sleep together and probably they'll start inviting us and get all stupid and pissed when we say no."  He was dreading it with everything he had.  He had a nice hammock, up where no one but maybe Groot would ever be able to get to.  No one was making him cuddle.  It'd leave his fur all matted anyway.  "Maybe it's Kraglin that stinks and he's getting it on Quill.  I'm gonna track them down."  He whirled around on his heel and stomped out.  He needed to make them stop the sleeping in piles thing before they invited him to join.  They'd do it, eventually.  He knew they would and then they'd want to toss him off their ship because he wasn't and would never be a Ravager.  
  
The smell was stronger as he moved, though and that soon pushed away his anger.  He'd never been very good at holding onto a feeling when there was a mystery at hand.  He opened the door to Quill's room and got hit with a wall of it.  It was bad enough it made him want to retch.  It wasn't just decay.  It was the decay of something alive, something breathing.  He'd smelt it before, on the Halfworld, just before one of the other subjects died and it sent his pulse skyrocketing.  Someone was dying, rotting from the inside out.  
  
The lump of blankets on the bed moved and he realized Quill was still asleep, though he'd seen Kraglin trying to teach Mantis a card game earlier so he'd been up for awhile.  Quill usually got up when Kraglin did and it worried Rocket that he was still asleep.  He climbed onto the bed and crouched next to Quill, who didn't twitch, didn't seem to register his presence.  
  
"Too used to sleeping with other people," Rocket muttered.  "Too trusting.  I could kill you where you lie and you'd never even know."  His ears went back as Quill exhaled in his general direction.  The smell was on his breath, deep inside him and his breath was hot enough to make Rocket cringe.  Rocket held his breath to avoid smelling it further and raised his ears, straining to listen.  There was something cracking and popping and Terrans weren't supposed to make that sound when they breathed.  He knew they weren't.  There were species that did, but not Quill's.  Rocket had paid enough attention to his teammates to know that.  
   
Rocket turned and ran, dropping to all fours for extra speed as he took off for the cockpit.  "How hard did you squeeze Quill's chest when you got the water out of him?" he demanded, teeth exposed as he snarled at her.  
  
"As hard as I needed to in order to induce breathing," she replied.  "Why?"  
  
"You broke something in him.  I can hear it.  You broke him!"  
  
Gamora's eyes widened.  "What do you mean?"  
  
"He's dying!  His lungs are rotting and something's snapping inside him!  You broke his ribs or something, you d'ast idiot!"  
  
"I didn't.  Nothing snapped.  I have broken enough bones to know."  She had and Rocket knew that but he had heard the damage.    
  
"His lungs are rotting.  He's _dying_."    
  
"He hasn't said anything.  If Peter was ill, he'd tell us."  
  
Rocket grabbed at his ears frustratedly, tugging them down.  "Or he wouldn't.  We don't know!  When was the last time you saw him sick?"  
  
He could see Gamora thinking about it, considering it.  He could see her discard a few ideas, then she frowned.  "Never."  
  
"So how do we know he doesn't just hide it?  Some species do, you know."  He'd seen it before, dozens of times, animals pulled from procedures with their bodies ravaged beyond recognition who tried to move around their cages normally, go through their normal grooming rituals.  Terrans looked delicate compared to many species and it was entirely reasonable to assume they might do the same.  
  
"Why don't we ask him?"  
  
"He didn't wake up when I climbed on his bed to check on him."  
  
She stood up from her seat, engaging the autopilot.  "Let's go."  She walked briskly and he had to scamper a little to keep up, but he didn't bother complaining.  There were some things more important and he had to get her convinced that Quill was dying.  If she had to see it herself, then so be it.    
  
"Peter?" she said, stepping into his room.  Quill didn't move, sound asleep still.  She shook his shoulder and Rocket scrambled up to stand next to him, relieved when Quill opened his eyes.   
  
"What's up?" Peter asked, then broke into a coughing fit that seemed to go on forever.  He curled around himself, his whole body jerking with the impact of each cough and tears streaming from his eyes.  He couldn't seem to get his breath and Rocket pulled back, ears flat and shoulders up.  The coughing turned into retching and gagging and Quill threw up, the contents of his stomach mostly phlegm, green and gobby and then finally, finally, Quill stopped coughing and rolled onto his back, gasping for air.    
  
Gamora looked at Rocket and Rocket crossed his arms and stared up at her.  "I told you so."  
  
"This is beyond our ability to treat," Gamora said.  "We will need to take him to a medical facility."  
  
"No," Quill gasped.  "I'll be fine."  
  
"When you cough so hard you vomit, you are most definitely not 'fine.'"  
  
"No doctors."  
  
"We're not really giving you an option here," Gamora said.  
  
Quill sat up abruptly and grabbed her arms, his gaze intense and furious, focussed where it had seemed fuzzy before.  "I said no.  I am _not_ going to a doctor.  I would rather die here, on my ship, with my friends than there."  
  
"Medics will heal you.  There is no need for you to die."  
  
"You think I don't know I'm dying?  You think I'm stupid?"  Quill stopped to cough and the hissing and popping under it made Rocket feel sick.  
   
"I believe you have an infection in your lungs," Gamora informed him.  "Perhaps your people lack technology to heal this, but I assure you that it can be fixed.  I am shocked that you have not seen such with the Ravagers."  
  
"They always say that and they just make you sicker and sicker until you die!"  He could barely breathe and the words came out in fits and bursts as he tried to catch his breath but they came and Rocket's heart sank.  Someone had got to Quill sometime in his life and they weren't going to get him to a doctor without destroying him.  
  
"That is not true.  There is no reason to believe that they cannot help you.  You likely acquired some kind of bacteria in the ocean.  We will take you to a medic and they will heal you."  
  
Suddenly, one of Quill's blasters was in his hand, pressed up against his own neck.  "I swear to you right now that I will do it.  I will shoot myself before I'm gonna let you take me to some... doctor."  He spat the word like it was an insult and Rocket knew that they didn't have many options left to them.  
  
"Fine," Rocket said, his hands in the air in a sign of surrender.  "We give."  
  
Gamora's head turned fast enough to make her hair swing out in all directions.  "What?  No we do--"  
  
"Gamora, shut up," Rocket snapped.  "If he doesn't want help, that's his choice."  
  
"He could die from this sort of infection."  
  
"And that's his choice!" Rocket shouted.  He knew Quill was terrified and he had no intention of following through on letting Quill choose his own death but Rocket had always been a backstabbing bastard.  He wasn't going to stop any time soon and he was at peace with it, especially if it meant Quill lived.  "Quill, put down your blaster.  We're going to leave you here and let you sleep, okay?"  
  
"Go!" Quill snapped.  "Both of you get out and if I catch you pulling any shit, I swear I'll do it."  
  
Rocket whirled around and tore out of there like his tail was on fire, heading down around the corner to wait for Gamora.    
  
"What were you thinking?" she demanded when she caught up to him.  "We're not going to let him die!  That would be completely idiotic!"  
  
"Of course we're not," Rocket responded.  "We're going to set a course to wherever the best medical place with the fewest jumps is.  By the time we're there, he'll be sick enough we can get someone to come on board, sedate him and remove him."  
  
"So you want to lie to him."  
  
"Hell yes.  You're not going to convince him to go.  I know that look.  He's never going to let you take him to a doctor, not if it means shooting himself.  He weren't messing around, that's for damn sure."  
  
"You think he will thank you for your betrayal?"  
  
"I think he'll be alive.  I don't know what demons he's got, but he's too sick to be rational and I know you'd have to be a backstabbing asshole to get me into medical care.  Someone experimented on him.  I know what it's like."  
  
"You don't know that."  
  
"You think his people got easy access to translator chips?  Cause hoo boy I got things to tell you about Terra.  Never been there but heard stories.  They're basically stuck in the stone age.  Still use hammers to build houses.  Out of _trees_.  No, that was done out here, probably by someone who didn't know him real good.  Quill maybe got lucky, maybe that's the only thing what they did to him but he's got hurt before by those bastards and we're gonna have to drag him in limp and wheezing because if we try to do it kicking and screaming, he'll die and take us all down with him."  
  
"He'll figure it out and then what?"  
  
"Sweetheart, that's when we hogtie him and get Drax to sit on him, cause that's the only way we're gonna be able to get through this with Quill alive."  
  
Gamora sighed.  "Fine.  I'll plot the course.  You stand guard outside his room, see if we can keep him from figuring it out too early."  
  
"Fine.  I got that covered, just gotta grab some weapons first."  
  
"Nothing lethal."  
  
"No, I want to kill him and that's why I'm helping you drag his ass to a doctor."  Rocket rolled his eyes, but Gamora didn't even bother to dignify it with a response.  She just glared momentarily and headed to the cockpit.  Rocket just hoped they'd get Quill to help in time.  He wasn't convinced they could--that smell meant death.  He knew it meant death, could feel it in the instincts that sometimes tried to overwhelm his higher reason.

 

  
  
The medical team wouldn't look Rocket in the eye and he was glad.  Every item they were carrying made his hands itch for guns he'd locked up and wouldn't so much as look at until Quill was well.  He didn't want to be within five parsecs of a medical facility, but Quill was dying and sometimes he had to sacrifice his own comfort for his team.  Wouldn't do to shoot the people trying to keep Quill alive.  
  
"We've never treated a Terran before," the head medic said, looking at Gamora.  "Do you have his list of intolerances before we begin?  There's very limited information in our database and most of it's hear-say."  
  
Gamora frowned.  "Intolerances?"  
  
"Yes.  Most species have similarities but what's a treatment for one species is for another a deadly poison.  Most rare species carry a list entry in case of medical emergency."  
  
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," Gamora said.  "He has never mentioned such a thing to me."  She looked down at Rocket and Rocket shook his head, his mind whirling.  He didn't know, but he knew who would.   
  
"Gimme a minute," Rocket said, then dashed away to the kitchen.  It was a short trip and he skidded to a halt at the end of the table, launching himself up onto it.  "All right, Obfonteri.  It's time to make yourself useful."  
  
Kraglin looked up from his cards, unimpressed.  "Seems like this is my ship and the one you usually live on's in pieces and should be mine too.  Pretty sure that counts as useful enough."  
  
"Not really, seein' as how I'm the one doing the maintenance for everything.  So get up off your ass and come on.  The d'ast doctors're asking for someone what knows Terran biology and shit and you're gonna give us whatever you got."  
  
"Doctors?"  Obfonteri tilted his head to the side like some kind of confused bird.  "Why do we got doctors on my ship?"  
  
"Cause Quill's dying."  
  
"Dying?" Mantis echoed, rising to her feet.  "Why would he be dying?"  
  
"Lung rot," Rocket said.  
  
Kraglin laughed.  "His lungs ain't rotting.  Don't think Terrans even get that."  
  
"How do you explain his cough then, huh?"  
  
"Finally got a cold and he's being a soft-headed baby about it.  Always knew his good luck would run out eventually," Kraglin said.  "Never got anything what the rest of us did and he'd run around like he was rubbin' it in, too."  
  
"Are you completely insane?  That's not some kind of sniffles!"  Rocket could feel his tail thrashing as he kept himself from just straight up attacking Kraglin's face with claws and teeth.  He felt naked and defenceless, his lack of weapons seeming to reduce gravity alarmingly.  
  
"You're over-reacting.  Terrans're tougher than they look like."  
  
"If that's true then why'd he hold himself at gunpoint so we wouldn't call a doctor?"  
  
"Cause he ain't soft.  Sure, we talk a lot of shit about Quill but he knows what's what."  
  
"Oh my god, you're an idiot."  Rocket couldn't help the awe that flooded his voice.  He was talking to an actual moron and he'd never seen anything like this before in his life.  "He told me himself he's dying, you spacebrain.  We've got medics onboard wantin' to treat him and you've known him longer than the rest of us.  Where's his intolerance list?"  
  
"Dunno that he's got one.  I'll come talk to 'em, but I don't know what you think I know that you don't."  Kraglin got up and waved his hand for Rocket to precede him.  
  
"Peter is dying?" Mantis repeated, her eyes large and her face distressed.  
  
"Not if we can help it," Rocket said.  "Find Groot and keep him outta the way while we get this sorted out."  He hoped she'd listen because he really didn't need her following him and _emoting_  in his general direction.  It was bad enough he'd have to play nice with Kraglin to get this sorted out.  Mostly, he just wanted Kraglin gone in any direction he felt like going.  Kraglin wasn't part of the team, didn't belong.  Mantis was intrusive enough.  He was grateful, though, that they had Kraglin right then as he hurried back to Gamora and the medical team.  Kraglin was smart enough to keep up though Rocket wasn't sure if that was because he cared about Peter or because he was afraid of what Gamora might do to him if Peter died.  Rocket didn't really care as long as it got results.  
  
"There you are," Gamora snapped as Rocket approached.  "Where did you go?"  
  
Rocket pointed over his shoulder.  "We got one of Quill's childhood buddies.  If anyone's gonna know anything, it's gonna be him."  
  
"An excellent point.  Kraglin, you shall accompany Peter and the medics to the surface and answer any questions they have."  Gamora's tone said it wasn't an optional mission and Kraglin, to his credit, didn't argue.  
  
"Take us to our patient, then," the head medic said.  "Do we know of a safe sedative?"  
  
"Crew always gave him a buncha hootch when we needed him quiet," Kraglin said with a shrug.  "Krawshi, too.  Feed him enough of that and he's out cold."  
"That's a stimulant," one of the medics frowned.    
  
"Knocks me for a loop too," Rocket admitted.  "But we've got something better.  Mantis can make him sleep for us."

"I thought that I was not supposed to do that for my crew mates without their permission?" Mantis asked from behind Rocket.

He turned rapidly, teeth bared.  She walked quietly.  It was creepy as hell and sometimes she even managed to pet him before he noticed her sneaking up on him.  Her hand wasn't outstretched, for once.  "Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do and your job is to help us keep Quill alive.  You're gonna make him nice and sedated so these nice knife wielding sadists can help him out.  Follow me."  He dropped to all fours to scamper down the hall, forcing Mantis to follow at a run and making it impossible for her to lay a hand on him at any time during the journey.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short update to move things along. Gamora will get another section later on, promise.

  
  
The hallways were long and sterile, traversed only by occasional visitors to the medical facility.  Medics used an above room transportation system that kept them from being accosted by angry or upset family members.  Gamora found it comfortingly impersonal.  It was no different from a repair shop or any other place they'd do business.  It was easier to forget why they were there.    
  
Disarming Peter had been one of the simplest fights she'd ever been in.  He was so weak, he could barely hold his blasters and it had been a simple matter to distract him while Mantis touched his arm.  The medics had taken him very easily and promised to heal him.  Gamora believed them.  They wouldn't fail her, wouldn't fail the team.  They seemed dependable and clever and with Kraglin's help, they'd make it through.  
  
She entered Peter's temporary quarters and they were just as sterile.  That seemed incongruous.  Peter was never clean, never tidy.  He was a mobile disaster but here he was neither a disaster nor mobile.  He was hooked up to a bunch of machines and asleep.  Were it not for the slow rise and fall of Peter's chest, she might have thought him dead, he was so still.  He never laid on his back to sleep.  If he was stretched out on his back, it always meant his toes were tapping or he was singing along with his music.  Seeing him still was upsetting at best.  At worst, it was terrifying.  
  
She sat in a chair to watch over him, waiting for any sign he might wake.  She sat for a long time in the silence of the room, the lack of stimulation making her sleepy and lazy.  Her reverie was interrupted by raised voices in the interview antechamber where medics and visitors were to meet and discuss treatment, to avoid upsetting the patients.  
  
"I'm tellin' you, I don't got a clue!" Kraglin snarled.  "Took two tries to get the damn chip in his head so we could understand him cause his brain's in there sideways or something.  There's a broken one swimmin' around in his skull somewhere and we weren't gonna pay to get it extracted!"  
  
There was a low, reasonable rumble and Gamora listened carefully, trying to work out what was being said.  
  
"No he don't.  We gave him the first shots so he wouldn't catch anything off us but his skin all came off his arm there so we stopped."  
  
More rumbling, a little louder but still too quiet to make out the words.  
  
"We're Ravagers!  Captain wasn't gonna pay for fan, pheno... whatever that is.  We tried to give him a shot, he got some kinda sick and then he never got sick again.  What in the hell's he need shots for anyway?  Terrans ain't gonna catch anything off us.  Nothin's ever stuck to him since then."  
  
Gamora moved closer, frowning worriedly.  That didn't sound good.  Peter hadn't received his vaccines?  
  
"Who cares?  He's been fine!  This is just him bein' stupid for the attention.  He's always been a spoilt little shit and that ain't gonna stop any time soon."  
  
She put her ear right up to the wall and caught some of the rumbling.  "-erstand, I do, but Terrans are actually quite delicate.  He probably reacted poorly to the vaccine because it was outside of his body's acidity tolerance.  Xandarian flu vaccines are usually preserved using hydrochloric acid and we've got enough information to know that he can't have that."  
  
"Pretty sure he got that in him already, don't he?  Stomach sure smells like it when he drinks too much."  
  
"Not in his skin.  His skin can't handle those levels and that burns him.  Where was he injected?  Our scans don't show any signs of scarring consistent with what you describe."  
  
"Terrans heal fast.  He don't got scars cause Quill don't scar.  Lucky bastard.  Pretty sure it has something to do with the scab peelin' ritual he got.  I dunno how he picks the right time but he peels 'em off and eats 'em and it seems to make him heal up faster.  I tried it and I scarred worse but he knows how."  
  
Gamora heard a soft thud and thought they might be coming, so she hurried back to her small chair.  Peter wasn't delicate.  They'd been through so much and he'd been fine.  He'd taken his hits where he needed to and if sometimes he worked to avoid getting hit, well, who could actually blame him?  It wasn't her place, that was for sure.  He always had his team's backs in a fight, even if he lacked Drax's strength and Rocket's ingenuity.    
  
She sighed and looked at the antechamber door.  Kraglin was less than useless for this and that was worrying.  He was the closest thing they had to an expert and apparently the doctors didn't believe him.  She hoped the medics had enough information to treat Peter properly.  She heard Kraglin arguing and the doctor's soft rumble as they argued and went around and around whatever it was that Kraglin thought was the way things ought to be.  It seemed to go on forever, Kraglin shockingly loud, loud enough that his voice easily escaped the boundaries of the small antechamber.  They weren't designed to be completely soundproof as the medics needed to be able to hear patients but they were near enough and Kraglin had to be furious if he was shouting that loudly.  
  
Finally, the door slid open and Kraglin stomped out.  "Frackin' useless.  Tryin' to tell us we shoulda got him shots and shit.  He didn't need shots.  Never got sick, did he?  Lucky little monster."  
  
"He's never been given vaccines?  What about a nanite boost?"  
  
"We weren't gonna try it after all that.  His arm was a mess and we thought it'd kill him.  It didn't.  Captain probably woulda yelled him into surviving if he'd tried dying but he was fine.  We'd all get some kind of nasty and Quill'd be running around singing at us and trying to make us soup and shit.  Annoying as hell.  S'probably the thing that made the worst wanna eat him."  
  
"So he's got no way to fight this off."  
  
"I don't know why everyone thinks Terrans is delicate.  Yeah, his bones break pretty easy and his skin's thin as hell but that don't make him delicate.  He heals back from it all quick.  I don't know why he's not already better.  Usually doesn't take this long for him to heal from shit."  
  
Gamora was quiet a moment and Kraglin seemed to take it as a dismissal because he headed for the door.  She was just thinking, replaying everything she knew about Peter.  It was a short list of things, but she turned each of them over quickly.  "But he was only half Terran, was he not?" she asked.  
  
Kraglin was nearly out of the door and he stopped, turned and came back in.  "Huh?"  
  
"Peter was only half Terran.  His mother was Terran.  His father was not."  
  
"Yeah, but we didn't know shit about his daddy so we didn't talk much about that.  Quill's a Terran."  
  
"But not medically.  His father was practically a god."  
  
"Yeah, so?"  
  
"When we killed Ego, that put an end to Peter's Celestial half.  Peter is mortal now."  
  
"He weren't mortal?"  
  
"Apparently not.  And now he is.  With a fully Terran immune system for the first time in his life."  Gamora watched Peter's still form.  "I believe the immune system is supposed to practice so it can become strong and he's never had to use his."  
  
"He used it.  He never even picked up any crotch rot and he fucked enough prozzies he shoulda."  
  
Gamora stared at him in horror, not even knowing how best to respond to that.  Her horror only increased when Kraglin apparently took that as an invitation to continue speaking.  
  
"Well we didn't know how his junk worked, did we?  We had to buy him a bunch so he could figure it out.  Not like we ever saw Terrans fuck before."  
  
"I do not know--"  
  
"Turns out he's not really compatible with about half the ones we bought him.  He screamed enough we had to go rescue him the first time."  
  
"I believe he is now able to pick up... diseases."  
  
"Good thing we got cures for most of them on the ship.  Hadda have, the way the boys used to get on."  
  
Kraglin was, she knew, about to turn maudlin.  She stood and reached out to pat him awkwardly on the shoulder in an act of comfort.  She was going to have to adjust to the tactile nature of Ravagers if she was going to live with two of them.  "I am certain Peter will be grateful for that.  Are the doctors able to find further information to help him, without your help?"  
  
"Something about fin-o-tappin' him.  Say they oughtta be able to figure it out if they can keep him stable long enough.  Apparently Terrans get burned by acids easier than most people."  
  
"Phenotyping?"  
  
"Yeah, that."  
  
"That takes time."  She glanced at Peter, worried it might be time he didn't have.    
  
"Yeah, but it'll work.  And we'll have an actual profile on him.  Ain't no one had that before.  D'you know Terrans shouldn't have arsenic?  Apparently it's in the stuff they got."  
  
"No arsenic?"  Gamora frowned.  "We will have to investigate his dietary needs.  It is possible we've been neglecting them.  Peter eats almost anything."  
  
"Yeah, we taught him to eat whatever he's got and shut up about it."  
  
Gamora nodded, thinking.  "Peter is very determined as to Rocket's origins. Stay with Peter.  I need to go to the ship."  
  
"I was going to go to the bar up--"  
  
"Stay with Peter.  I need to talk to Rocket."

 

 

Tracking down Rocket was never a simple task so it spoke to his concern that he emerged from a ventilation shaft the moment that Gamora set foot on the ship.  "Well?" he demanded.  
  
She pressed her lips together and crossed her arms.  She'd been thinking the entire way back to the ship but she still didn't know how to ask what she needed to.  "Peter is stable," she said, slowly.  "He is no better but he is also no worse than he was.  Kraglin knows next to nothing of his needs so they're depending on phenotyping to determine the best course of treatment."  
  
Rocket sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.  "That'll take nearly an entire day."  
  
"They gave him a breathing treatment someone in this sector has used on Terrans before and it seems to have helped for now."  
  
"Good.  How the hell doesn't Kraglin know shit?"  
  
"Peter never got sick.  More than likely his Celestial half protected him."  
  
"That'd do it," Rocket muttered.  "Damn.  I was hoping we'd be able to get away from this place."  He was twisting some wires in his hands in a facsimile of his usual building behaviour, very obviously pretending to pay attention to them.  
  
"You will not need to enter the facility.  I do, however, have a question for you."  
  
"Yeah?"  Rocket looked up cautiously, his ears pulled back in a way that Gamora had learned meant he was about ready to attack.  
  
"How do you know what foods are safe for you to consume?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Terrans are intolerant to arsenic.  I've never seen you eat anything with a significant amount of arsenic.  Peter seems to think that you may have some history with his planet."  
  
Rocket made an irritated sound.  "How many times I gotta say I ain't a raccoon before it sticks with you naked freaks?"  
  
"I am not saying you are.  I am simply trying to figure out how we feed Peter with this new information.  Dozens of the Kree-based recipes contain arsenic and my species requires a small amount regularly for health.  If you are the only person of your species in the universe, then how do you know what you can and cannot eat?  Can we teach Peter?"  Privately, Gamora was almost certain that Peter was correct and Rocket was of Terran origin.  Peter knew too many things about these raccoons for them to be fictionalized and he'd known before the rest of them that, when Rocket relaxed around his team, he would prefer to dip his food in water.  He'd set the table with a small bowl for Rocket since the beginning of their time together.  If she could determine what Rocket couldn't eat, it might help narrow things down for Peter.  
  
Rocket glared up at her.  "I dunno.  I only eat what smells good.  Don't eat if it smells like shit won't work for him, though.  His sense of smell is awful."  
  
"That is true.  He seems to lack basic olfactory capabilities at times."  
  
"We gotta put him on a showering schedule cause his bunk's about enough to make me throw up."  
  
"When he's well again, we can discuss that.  It has gotten worse since Kraglin joined us and it seems as though it would be prudent to keep the ship a little more tidy in light of his immune system being less robust than it once was."   Gamora sighed.  "We should probably begin a complete scrub down before he comes home.  We can't put him at risk."  
  
"Mantis can do it."  Rocket's tail gave an angry thrash and he hunched over his wires.  "I don't got enough years left to be spending my time on menial labour."  
  
"Mantis isn't our servant, Rocket," Gamora said, disappointed in him.  "Mantis is our friend and teammate and--"  
  
"And she's got experience in cleaning."  
  
"And the ship is a bit larger than one person can clean.  We'll need new air filters, too.  I don't know when Yondu would have cleaned them last.  He never seemed the tidy type."  
  
"Everything's filthy.  There's bugs all over the place.  I touch something to fix it and I come away sticky and I hate sticky like nothing else.  I don't even wanna think what I been touching in here."    
  
"I shall alert the others, then.  Kraglin is staying with Peter until I get back.  I'll do a short shift cleaning then send him to take his turn.  He has no doubt been responsible for at least some of the mess."  
  
"Some of it's blood," Rocket muttered.  "Can smell it.  When Quill's healthy again, we gotta finish fixing up the Milano.  We need more parts than what I got so we're gonna have to get some jobs in.  I got a list about a mile long of parts and components we need.  Don't think we can ever get this thing clean.  I'm surprised his sick smell even stood out from the general objectionableness of the thing."  
  
"The Milano was barely large enough for just the five of us," she said contemplatively.  
  
"Didn't say we'd ditch this one.  Keep the Milano, add onto this one, dock the Milano on here.  Keep this one for storage and stuff and use the Milano for manoeuvring all tight and neat."  
  
Gamora couldn't deny the logic there and she found herself nodding.  "That might be for the best.  I don't think this ship will ever feel properly like home for me."  
  
"The Milano's not our home.  It's just a good place to crash and Quill's a little less disgusting than the rest of the Ravagers.  Did they make Kraglin go through some kind of sanitary dip before they let him into the medical place?"  
  
"No, I don't think they do such things."  
  
"Do it for prison and not for a place full of sick people.  That's completely frackin' insane."  Rocket shook his head and she watched his tail puff up.  She could tell he was upset but she didn't know how to help.  Peter was better at that than she was.  She destroyed, she didn't fix.  Peter went around patching holes in people that they hadn't even been ready to acknowledge and if he didn't pull through, things were going to get very, very messy.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drax is probably the hardest for me to write. I encourage criticism here because I really took liberties with differences in biology. I managed to convince my scientist wife who studies evolutionary biology that such biological weirdness would be possible though, so that's something!

  
Drax plucked Groot out of the bucket of dirty water, holding him up gently but firmly.  "You must not bathe in this.  It is disgusting.  The sanitizing agents will dry out your leaves and leave you unable to convert light into energy."  Groot squirmed in Drax's hands and Drax sighed as he placed him on the floor, making sure his footing was stable before he let go.  He dipped his scrub brush back into the water and began scrubbing next to Groot, watching him from the corner of his eye to ensure he did not immediately clamber back into the bucket.

"There is so much to clean," Mantis said, her scrub brush not stilling on the wall.  "I do not understand why we are taking such lengths to rescue Peter from his squalor?  Surely he will be much happier if he is in a familiar environment."

Drax sat back, watching her a moment.  "Terrans are apparently much more pathetic than we have previously realized."

"He has a strong heart."  Mantis didn't turn to Drax as she spoke, but her tone sounded a little uncertain.

Drax contemplated this.  Mantis tended towards less metaphor than the others, but she seemed to be using more and more as each day aboard the Eclector's shuttle section passed.  It was rapidly becoming just as difficult to understand her as it was anyone else and he felt a longing for the simpler days when she had been little more than an isolated pet.  "That increases his chances of survival," he said finally.

She glanced at him then, blinking in a way that never failed to make him feel uncomfortable, as though she were seeing nothing where there should be eyes.  "His brothers' and sisters' emotions were also very strong, stronger as they died.  It did not save them, though sometimes my master would allow me to take their pain or make them sleep so they would not scream so loudly."

Drax focussed on his scrubbing again to suppress the rage he felt at Mantis' complicity in the murder of so many children.  "What does this have to do with his organ health?"

"Peter says that the heart is where Terrans keep their emotions.  His are always very strong."

"Then he will live.  We shall rejoice at his return."

"I worry that his heart may be under a great deal of strain if he keeps so much in it.  What if it bursts?" 

Drax dumped some water out on the floor to bring up more of the dirt as he scrubbed.  The washing reminded him of home, of the days when his daughter had been young and learning to crawl and walk.  He had wished to keep her safe and healthy, so he had cleaned often so that his wife would not need to.  He was never sure if being reminded of home was better or worse.  "Then he will die.  I do not believe Terrans have a secondary circulatory system."

"I want Peter to live.  I have seen too many of my master's children die.  Do you think they would allow me to go and take some of his emotions so that his heart is better protected until he is well?"

Drax opened his mouth to answer and found it filled with water as Groot jumped into the puddle, sending water everywhere.  It was disgusting and he spat, even as he picked Groot up and clutched him.  "No, Groot, you must not do this!"  He spat again and then stood to find a higher place to put his small friend.  He noticed Mantis had turned to watch but he kept his gaze averted so that the distraction of Groot's poor behaviour would let him consider a better answer than the one which immediately sprang to mind.  Placing Groot up on a knob attached to the water pipes, he slowly answered.  "You will have to discuss this with Gamora and Rocket.  They are looking after Peter in this endeavour.  I have my doubts that it will work.  He will not become stronger lying in a bed unconscious."

"You do not approve of the medical facility?"

"Not at all.  The most certain way to regain one's health is through physical labour.  It distracts the mind from the body's weakness and encourages the growth of muscle.  As muscle mass increases, so does health."  

"Gamora says that Peter is sleeping.  He will be unable to gain muscle mass whilst sleeping."  Mantis dropped her brush into her bucket.  "What does this mean?"

"It seems likely he will die.  His body will not be able to fight off illness and this... infection will continue indefinitely.  How else can he improve?"

"They say he will receive medications that will help him.  Much like the shots that Gamora insisted I have when we entered Xandarian space."

"Your species is weak and small.  No doubt they believed you would require specialized assistance for survival.  I could break your spine with the use of just one hand.  I would not even need to pay attention to such a simple act."

Mantis giggled.  "Of course you could.  You are very large and lumpy."

"I am indeed.  I shall remain healthy for the rest of my life.  It shall be long and I shall use it to make good on my promise to my family.  I shall crush Thanos into a messy, sloppy paste and paint myself with his innards."

"That is disgusting."

"Yes.  It--Groot!  No!"  He scooped Groot up again from where he was dropping into the bucket.  "How did you get down here?  I put you up to keep you safe.  You must not do this."    
  
  
  
"They're going to keep him sedated for awhile," Gamora said.  "They've found several drugs that will keep him under safely and they feel that it would be best to keep him unconscious until he's likely to be more coherent."

Rocket made a disgusted noise.  "Thought you said they gotta get him moving to help his lungs open up or something like that."

"They tried waking him and he fought them.  Given the choice between no treatment at all and keeping him unconscious, they have determined this is the best course of action."

"I'm telling you.  They fucked with him when they got him into space, bringing him forward and civilizing him.  Civilizing people never feels nice.  It's awful."

"I've spoken to Kraglin and aside from the translation chip and a failed attempt at immunization, he's never had any contact with medical professionals.  I don't think his situation is quite the same as yours."

"I don't trust Kraglin any farther than I can throw him."

Having heard enough, Drax stepped into the room.  "Your cybernetic enhancements would allow you to throw him a disproportionately far distance when compared to your short stature."

"Yeah, well, that still ain't far," Rocket grumbled.

"No, but it is farther than can be expected."

"That's completely not the point here," Gamora said.  "Kraglin can't think of any real reason why Peter should be afraid of doctors so they're treating this as a sign of delirium and they're going to keep him sedated."

Drax nodded.  It made sense to do what was necessary to keep Quill comfortable, though it seemed foolish.  "We could just take care of matters ourselves," he said.

"We don't have the resources," Gamora told him.  "Peter needs constant monitoring."

"We are very good at killing people," Drax said.

"Yeah, and?  That doesn't make us good at healing people."  Rocket rolled his eyes and turned to Gamora.  "Can you believe this idiot?"

Drax cut in before Gamora could respond.  "I know that it is difficult to say goodbye to one we care for as much as Quill, but it is a foolish waste of resources to prolong his pain this way.  We should kill him and end his suffering."

"Drax!" Gamora said, aghast.

"What the hell?  No!" Rocket protested. "He's with the medics for a reason!  No one's killing anyone!"

"There is no point to this," Drax said.  "He is going to die and we are simply causing him further suffering.  There is no honourable death in laying in a bed withering away.  We must grant him swift passage to the afterlife."

"No," Gamora said.  "There's no need for that."

"When the only way to keep him comfortable is to keep him unconscious, you have reached the point where improvement is impossible.  I volunteer to kill him, just as Hovat ended Kamaria's suffering and as I ended hers in turn.  I have the experience to make it quick and painless."  He turned to head for the door, only to find it slamming shut.

"I thought you said Ronan killed them," Rocket snarled, one forepaw next to the button that closed the door.

"He did," Drax said.  He clenched his fists by his sides and stared at a place just over Rocket's head, pausing a moment to let a minor obstruction in his throat pass.  "He tore Kamaria limb from limb and left her crying at Hovat's feet while I attempted to stop him.  Hovat's knife dealt the final blow so that Kamaria would be without fear or pain.  Ronan struck Hovat down and it fell to me to complete her passage.  He slaughtered them, left them broken and bleeding so that their deaths would be prolonged and the agony endless.  They would have died slowly and that is not the way of my people.  It is barbaric to allow such a thing."  The wall was blurring in front of him and the words were difficult to push from his throat.  He raised one hand to touch it, to check for something pressing on it, but there was nothing there.

"If there had been a chance that they would survive, you would have taken them to a medic," Gamora said, her voice oddly soft.  "You would have saved them."

"There was no way to do so.  Their wounds were terminal.  Ronan killed them and he enjoyed it.  I simply did my duty as Hovat's beloved."

"That's _insane,"_  Rocket said.  "You didn't even try to get them help?  I thought you loved them!"

Drax lunged for Rocket, grabbing his throat swiftly and lifting him into the air.  "Do not _ever_  cast my love for my wife and daughter into doubt, rodent!" he snarled.  The only thing that kept him from crushing Rocket's windpipe was the fact that, if he did, Rocket would be unable to hear him.  Instead, he shook the animal, finding satisfaction in the way his limbs flailed and swung through the air.

A blade pressed against Drax's throat, a blade honed so sharp he knew instinctively it could pierce his skin.  "Put Rocket down now," Gamora's voice came, level and dangerous in Drax's ear.  "No one is questioning how you feel for your family."

"I am," Rocket gasped.  Drax tightened his hand so the creature could no longer speak.

"Rocket," Gamora said, with a hint of warning.  "Drax, put him down.  We can talk this out.  There is no reason to harm Rocket."

"He accused me of not caring for them!"

"And he is very sorry.  He didn't mean that.  He is, in fact, going to apologize as soon as you let him draw breath again."

"He shall not."

"I will not hesitate to maim you and let you become acquainted with the medical facilities here," Gamora snarled.  He could hear her patience disappearing. and he did not doubt she would follow through on her threat.

He lifted Rocket high and looked up into his eyes.  "You will never call into question my love for Hovat and Kamaria again or I will rip your spine from your body and determine precisely how you were made."  He released Rocket and let him drop to the floor, coughing and sputtering.

"Apologize," Gamora said and Drax felt her blade leave his throat.

"I'm sorry, you fracking psychopath," Rocket coughed, rubbing his throat.  

"I am not a psychopath," Drax snarled, taking a step towards Rocket.  Gamora's blade was immediately back at his throat.

"You, too," she said.

"Me?" Drax asked, confused.

"You will also apologize.  We do not attack one another.  There are enough others who wish to see us dead."

"Why would I apologize?  The rodent maligned me."

"And your response was completely disproportionate.  You will apologize.  He has apologized."

"I doubt his sincerity."  

"I don't care," Gamora said.  "You're apologizing and then you are going to sit down and I am going to make you talk until we understand exactly why it is that you think killing Peter is the answer to his illness."

"Because he's a fucking psycho.  Keep him away from Groot, I don't want Groot's brain getting all messed up from this bullshit."  Drax clenched his fists more tightly at the implication that he would hurt a child, wanting to toss Rocket off the walls and watch him bounce.

"Rocket, you aren't helping anything."

"I don't care if I'm helping.  He just tried to kill me and he wants to murder Quill!"

"I do _not_  wish to murder him!" Drax snarled.  "It would not be murder!"  He would never understand why his friends and teammates seemed to see him as evil when they found it convenient.

"Then why are you offering to kill him?" Gamora asked, stepping between Rocket and Drax and lowering her blade once more.  It was her sword and Drax felt relief that she had not been serious about killing him.  She could easily have slain him where he stood.  Experience fighting by her side had taught him that while he was stronger, she was faster.

"As an act of mercy and caring," Drax said.  "He deserves better than to waste away slowly in fear and pain."

"Drax, we're in a system where euthanasia is legal."

"It is still best for him to have his life ended by one who knows and respects him."

Gamora sighed.  "If euthanasia were the best option, the medics would have discussed it with us, but Peter is improving so there is no reason to entertain that idea."

He was confused by her words and latched onto the most obvious point of error on her part.  "Ideas cannot find anything amusing."

She frowned for a moment, then her face took on an expression of forced patience, one Drax had learnt to dislike.  She thought he was stupid and there was no way for him to argue because she would simply speak more quickly and with greater analogy and metaphor, just as all of his companions did.  "Drax, it's an alternate meaning here.  Entertain means to consider.  Peter is getting better, albeit slowly, so there is no reason to consider euthanasia as an option.  It is very premature to think about killing him."

"He is unconscious and unmoving.  He cannot get better if this is the case."

"Why the hell not?" Rocket demanded, his face around Gamora's hip.  

"Laying still leads to muscular atrophy.  How will he be able to improve?"  Drax couldn't understand what they were missing.  It was all very simple.  There was no point he could see where comprehension should break down.

Rocket's eyes narrowed, then widened almost comically as he thought that through.  "Where do your species keep your immune system?" he demanded.

"I do not know what you are asking," Drax said.  

"If you get some kind of infection, how does your body... remove the infection?"  

"Infection is a great rarity.  It occasionally kills our children before they can walk or our elders as they begin to lose muscle mass."  Drax had only seen one or two cases in his life and it had been very distressing to his community.

"That seems unlikely," Gamora said tentatively.  "Are your people given nanites to prevent infections?"

"No.  We do not alter our bodies in such unnatural ways.  At the first sight of unhealthiness or injury, an increase of muscle mass will heal us."

Rocket tapped Gamora's elbow.  "I think I heard of this.  Didn't know it was Drax's species but I was stealing some... allegedly stealing some really nice, rare platters from a fancy dinner for a bunch of science types one time and I was hanging out in some vents, see?  Really nice platters, made out of a silicon-rich metalloid alloy great for building weapons out of.  And someone said there were people who keep their immune systems in their muscles sort of.  Like, they're immune to almost everything cause of some cell shape thing and if something does get through, their body'll sacrifice muscle cells to poison the diseased cells.  Something about making some kind of acid or something.  I dunno, I stopped listening when I realized how boring that asshole was."

Drax frowned.  He had never been a scientist and had never bothered reading the notations and writings of scientists.  "I am unfamiliar with all of this.  I know, as all of us do, that keeping muscle mass prevents and treats illness.  Keeping Quill in a bed is going to kill him.  He cannot create new muscle while laying still."

"Peter don't work like that," Rocket said.  "Most people got their immune system different from that.  They got one, for one.  Special kind of cells, goes around eating bad stuff like what makes them sick.  They're tiny and you can't see them with your eyes but it's happening."

"Since when do you know so much biology?" Gamora asked.

"Sometimes, I break.  Gotta know how to fix myself."  Rocket shrugged, discomfort evident in the droop of his whiskers and the stiffness in his ears.

"This does not make sense," Drax said.  "How can something so small repair damage that would cause him to be so ill?"

Rocket groaned.  "Gamora, get me a tablet with a stylus?  I gotta draw Drax some pictures cause this ain't gonna make sense otherwise."

"Can I leave you two alone without anyone dying?"

"I will not kill him until he has taught me about this," Drax said.

"I live with children," Gamora said, but she opened the door to do as Rocket asked.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Kraglin wasn't a physically imposing man. He wasn't terribly strong. He didn't have an education. He did have credits sitting around in various unmarked accounts, enough to have long since begun building his own ship and working towards his own captaincy if he'd wanted it, but Kraglin didn't have that kind of ambition. 

That's not to say he wasn't an ambitious man, just to say that his ambitions lay in directions other than being the one making the hard choices. He never wanted to be in command properly, but being second in command suited him well. He liked listening and had honed his skills, learning which things to put away in his memory for later and which things to boost in the moment to secure the power of the man he followed. 

He'd followed one man for his entire adult life and the one thing he had wanted more than anything was for that man to listen to him in return for all the things Kraglin knew. Kraglin understood the value of watching, of seeing what came next and pushing and pulling to move things where he wanted them. Yondu had understood how to rule with an iron fist, whistling sharply at the first sign of trouble. They'd had complementary skills and yet so often Kraglin had felt under-used or ignored, one little thing building up at a time, until finally it had boiled over at exactly the wrong time and got his Captain killed. 

It was a burden Kraglin didn't carry easily, but following his Captain's boy, calling him Captain, it helped. It was a penance of sorts--Peter was never going to be the kind of captain that Kraglin was used to or that he did best with and Kraglin was never going to be Peter's first mate. He didn't mind so much, except when the other Guardians overlooked him, questioned why he was there, what he was actually bringing to the team, questioned if he was pulling his weight. All of them, save Peter, Mantis and possibly Groot, questioned it regularly, didn't understand Kraglin's value. It stung, got under his skin and made him want to fight them.

He rocked the legs of his chair back off the floor, balancing it as he took a long swig from the flask he kept tucked away in his jacket and pondered why he actually wanted to fight them. Mostly, it felt like they were too close to the truth. Every night since Peter had taken control of the remains of the Eclector, Kraglin had slept near him, trying to cling to a single shred of privilege he'd been awarded for years as mate. He was trusted with the Captain's life and the Captain's sleep and he'd failed first Yondu and now Peter. He hadn't noticed as Peter grew ill, hadn't noticed how close he was to death. Another stupid oversight, another captain felled. It was becoming a pattern he could scarcely bear. 

A medic walked in and he dropped his chair back down to the floor with a thud, quickly secreting away the flask. "Mr. Obfonteri?" she asked softly. "Are you making decisions for Mr. Quill right now?"

He didn't want to be, that was for sure, but there wasn't anyone else. "Yeah, I'm lookin' out for Captain's needs."

"We need to have a conversation about those needs."

 

 

"The things we don't know about Terrans... it's a lot," Kraglin said, seated at the head of the Eclector's table, the rest of the team seated around it. "Like, apparently they gotta have sunlight, real sunlight, from the right kinda sun or their bones get all brittle."

"I am Groot?" Groot said, his little head tipping to the side.

"Yeah, he doesn't got any green bits, that don't make sense," Rocket agreed.

"There's some kind of," Kraglin closed his eyes and pictured the word carefully. "The medic called it a 'secosteroid'. His body makes it with sunlight or from eating it and he ain't had any consistently since he was a kid. Not enough time planetside, I guess, and it's not common in this part of the galaxy in food. And there's a different chemical, too, he ain't had since he was little. Means his bones are full of holes. Probably only grew as big as he did cause of his daddy's side or he'd be short and his limbs'd be all twisted. They think whatever his daddy's power was sorta acted like a brace, kept him growing normal and all. Gamora busted his sternum when she squeezed the water out of him." And hadn't that been a relief to hear? It wasn't just his fault. Gamora'd done some of the damage, too.

"I never felt anything break."

"Said that to the medic, she said it wouldn't take as much pushing and it wouldn't have felt the same when it broke cause his bones are so soft."

"I can help with the pain if you take me to him," Mantis offered.

"They found drugs that work. They just gotta keep him down. They don't wanna wake him up until he's feeling better but his ribs ain't gonna heal right unless they do more stuff." 

The others looked expectantly at him and Kraglin shrank in on himself under their searching eyes. He didn't like being the centre of attention, never had and it was already exhausting him. He looked down at the table top and took a deep breath, running a finger over a knife mark that had been left by someone he'd gotten killed. "They say his best chances to get better are if they give him a full run of nanites. They gotta add some cybernetics to do it so the little fuckers can charge."

"When are they performing the surgery?" Drax asked.

"Dunno," Kraglin answered. 

"What did Peter say when they woke him to tell him?" Gamora asked.

"They want us to make the call." Kraglin couldn't bear to look at any of them, kept his shoulders tight and his back curled, trying to make himself smaller.

"No," Rocket snarled. "That's not how we do things."

"I told her to wake him up but waking him and putting him back under is apparently harder on him. The drugs they're using ain't perfect. We gotta make the call."

"I am Groot."

"Yeah, we'll just wait until he's feeling better and then let him make the call," Rocket said. "I was willing to put him under to get him to the doctor but we're not putting shit in him without asking!"

"His sternum won't heal up until they do this. He can't take a deep breath until his sternum's healed. Getting rid of the..." He paused, trying to remember how to pronounce the word. "Getting rid of the pneumonia won't work until he can breathe all the way."

"No one's putting anything in Quill without his say-so!" Rocket jumped onto the table with a thud that drew Kraglin's attention to him. Kraglin couldn't remember seeing any kind of weapons on Rocket, but now he had one of his larger guns aimed right at Kraglin's head. Kraglin raised his hands and swallowed.

"Rocket, put that down! Kraglin isn't doing anything to Peter!" Gamora said, springing to her feet and coming around the table to try and intercept him.

"He thinks it's all a great idea, he's buying into this line of shit they're selling!"

Kraglin shook his head, keeping his voice as steady as he could. "I brought it back to the ship cause I didn't think it's a choice I should be making." He hadn't. He'd thought it was up to the people Peter'd chosen as his own, not someone he'd been stuck with since he was a kid. He thought it was a choice for those Peter trusted most and that list likely didn't include Kraglin.

"You think it's all good, don't you? Like you should just shove stuff in him and see what happens?" The gun was quivering and getting closer to Kraglin's face, little bit by little bit as Rocket shuffled forward.

"I am Groot!"

"He's gonna let them do it and you know it!"

"I am Groot."

"Yeah? Then what? He's gotta deal with it, not us!"

"Perhaps we can find a compromise," Gamora suggested, standing at Kraglin's elbow.

"What kind of compromise? Either we let a bunch of assholes stick shit in Quill he ain't gonna like or what, he dies? They're holding him hostage!"

"No one is holding anyone hostage."

Kraglin closed his eyes and let the arguing go back and forth, let the words wash over him. It was reasoned argument against pure rage, peppered with periodic 'I am Groots' and he didn't know what to do with it other than keep his eyes closed and his head down and hope that no one hurt him. Though, he was pretty sure that at the current range, it wouldn't hurt, he'd just be dead. It was something of a welcome thought. It could all be over, he could go peacefully into the night and be with the rest of the Ravagers.

There was a thud, an irritated "I am Groot!" and a frustrated "Drax!" from Gamora and he opened his eyes to see Rocket unconscious on the table.

"You can't just knock him out like that!" Gamora said, disarming Rocket's unconscious form.

"He was going to kill Obfonteri and Quill requires treatment. We must go ahead with it or we will have made Quill undergo initial treatment for nothing."

"Rocket could have squeezed the trigger when you hit him! I was going to disarm him safely."

"He is never truly disarmed. He has claws and teeth and is unafraid to use them when he has no other weapons."

Gamora carefully picked Rocket up, cradling him in her arms so she could take him wherever it was she thought he'd wake up best. "He would have calmed."

"No offense meant here," Kraglin said, keeping his tone carefully level, "but I don't think he would have. He's clearly got some issues and I've seen this sorta crap before. If you wanna get the surgery done on Peter, I think you best call it in to the medics now before the rat wakes up."

"Don't call him a rat."

Kraglin sighed and stood up. "Rocket, then. He's liable to go busting Quill out, I think, so you best make the decision."

"What do you think we should do?" Gamora asked as Groot climbed up her to peer at Rocket worriedly.

Kraglin shrugged. "Not my place to say."

"Are you not Quill's oldest living friend?" Drax asked.

Kraglin shook his head. "Known him longer than anyone else alive but we ain't been friends for most of it. Mostly, we hated each other, if I'm honest." It hurt to admit that. Sometimes, he and Quill had been on all right terms, sometimes even working together by choice, but mostly it had felt like he was competing with Quill for Yondu's attention. Mostly it had felt like waiting for the kid to screw up and die or take off. He'd felt relief more than anger when Quill had finally stabbed Yondu in the back, but then Yondu hadn't followed through.

"I know that he and Yondu had a complicated relationship, but you've chosen to share Peter's bed," Gamora said. "Is that not a sign of friendship of some kind or another?"

Kraglin swallowed hard. "Depends how you define friendship, I guess. We're the last of our faction, him and me. I ain't never slept alone unless I was on a solo mission and he's about the same, except when he was with you. Friendship don't really come into it. Sure, I could probably call up Stakar and he'd see to it I got a place in one of the other factions and Quill'd be fine with you, but things is different for us. I was at the tribunal where they tossed us all out, I don't think I can go back."

"So you're just sleeping with him because you have nowhere else to go?" Gamora asked.

That was really the long and short of it. They were all on the only remaining quadrant of the Eclector, the only home he'd known since he'd joined the Ravagers. He had nowhere else to go, no family, no friends left. He was alone, save for Peter. He had no rank and he'd never be able to make a home among the people who had exiled him. "I'm not hiding it from him, if that helps any," he said, unable to meet her eyes. "I wouldn't do that. He's my captain now. Ca--Yondu would've wanted it that way."

Rocket moved slightly in Gamora's arms and she shifted his weight. "You need to reconsider your position on Peter. If you are to remain here, you need to be taking an interest in his life and become a full partner of this crew. You can't just step aside of the difficult decisions like this."

"It's just not my place," Kraglin repeated. "You're the people he chose. I'm one of the people he left behind."

Gamora opened her mouth as if to answer, then looked inexplicably sad. "Can Peter have the charging station removed later?" she asked.

"Don't see why not. It's not going to be part of any major organs, just supporting some systems from what I understand," Kraglin said.

"Then my vote is that we go forward with the surgery," she said.

"I am Groot," Groot said, in a tone of protest.

"If it can be removed, then we are not permanently altering him and it is worth it," she explained to him. "We need your vote or it is a tie. We cannot move forward with this without you and not moving forward could be deadly to Peter."

Groot looked confused and Kraglin had to look away. It wasn't fair to put that kind of question to the twig. He was too little, too young. 

"I think we should do it," Kraglin said. "That puts it at three against two. By my reckoning, we have the majority without getting Groot involved. I'll call them and let them know?"

"You should go tell them in person and stay there while they perform the surgery. That should give us enough time to calm Rocket down. I don't want him to kill you," Gamora said. "I'll need Drax's help, he won't be able to protect you." 

Kraglin nodded. "Yeah, okay. I'll keep you updated if there are any problems." 

"See that you do," Drax said, then followed Gamora out of the room as she hurried out with Rocket.

"May I accompany you to the medical facility?" Mantis asked softly, startling Kraglin. He'd forgotten she was there in all the confusion. "I have never seen the inside of such a place and I could keep you company while you wait."

"Uh, yeah, don't see why not," Kraglin said. The idea of taking her off the ship without the others felt a little strange and he had concerns about letting her so close to Quill with her abilities and him being sick and all. It seemed like a bad idea, like it might somehow harm her. She'd disappeared into the background during the argument, the way Quill used to hide in the vents when the Ravagers got too loud and rowdy when he'd been a kid. He didn't particularly think medical facilities were good places for kids and Mantis seemed to him to be a pretty young kid, maybe even younger than Quill had been. He'd have to look into the life cycle of her species. No one else seemed to have concerned themselves with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I questioned whether or not to go ahead with this chapter, but decided it was necessary. Poor Rocket.
> 
> I love reviews more than anything so please, if you have a second, even a word will brighten my day.


	6. Chapter 6

The walls were so white and plain and it was so very, very quiet.  Mantis's every breath seemed loud and harsh in the room they'd been told to sit in and wait.  Waiting was boring, but she was used to being bored.  She had been bored so much of her life, alone for more of it.  

Yet she was not actually alone.  The remaining Ravager was sitting next to her but he was still and silent, staring directly at the wall across from him.  She did not see the appeal of the wall.  It was exactly like all of the other walls as far as she could tell, but perhaps his eyesight was different from hers.  "Can you see different light frequencies than I can?" she asked.

He startled and she covered her mouth so as not to giggle.  His face was very comical, his eyes wide as he jumped to his feet, looking around wildly.  A knife had appeared in his hand.  

"Wha--Oh.  What?" he asked, sinking back down to sit.  

"Can you see different light frequencies from me?  Do you have better vision than the galactic average?"

"Not in this kinda light.  Too bright.  I always liked it darker than this.  I'm adapted for low light.  See better there than most, but pretty much I'm average in standard lighting."

"Then what is of such interest on that wall?"  She blinked and turned her face to stare intently at it, wondering if something would emerge.  It appeared perfectly smooth, however.

"Nothing.  Just... just looking at it.  Not much else to look at, you know?"

"The room is very boring," she agreed.  "Why do you suppose that they make the waiting room so plain and uncomfortable?"

"Dunno.  Maybe it's supposed to make it so we can't tell how long it's been.  Been in shops like that.  No clocks or anything so you don't know how long you been shopping.  Always thought it was pretentious but had occasion to go through them a couple times.  Undercover jobs and the like."

Undercover, such a puzzling word.  "What were you covered by?" she asked.

 "It's not being covered by anything.  It's pretending to be someone else to get into a place.  Used to steal a lot of stuff that way.  Keep my mouth shut and I pass well enough for a regular Xandarian.  Could get into places Yondu couldn't.  Peter used to be my attendant.  His Xandarian's pretty bad, but he was good enough at a few key phrases we could make it work."

"Ah, I see.  I have never stolen anything.  Is it fun?"

Kraglin smiled at her and she smiled back.  "Never had near as much fun doing anything else.  It's why I became a Ravager in the first place.  Like stealing."

Peter and Rocket liked stealing, too.  Groot seemed to enjoy it at times if his little hoards were any indication.  Acquisition, Mantis had learned, was pleasurable.  She had a few of her own belongings, the first things that had ever truly been hers.  "Will you teach me?"

Kraglin made a face that she couldn't decipher, so she reached for his hand.  He pulled away quickly, something that happened all too often.  How she was meant to decipher emotions from their faces without knowing what they meant, she was never going to figure out.  "I don't think that's a good idea," he mumbled.

"Everyone else knows how.  I see no reason why I should not learn."

"There's a few reasons, but I think it's probably something you should wait and ask Peter about."

"Is he truly going to be all right?"  Mantis stared at Kraglin, hoping she would be able to tell if he was telling the truth or lying, whatever he responded with.  "Everyone has said such conflicting things that I am no longer certain."

"When it comes to life, nothing's certain, but yeah, it looks like he will.  This surgery's gonna get him back on his feet and he'll be fine.  Kid's bounced back from a lot."

"He is the greatest survivor of all my master's progeny," Mantis agreed.  He was the only survivor of all the children she knew of.  His search for Peter had kept him from creating more and she was grateful for that.  Any time he had gone to court a new dam for his progeny, she had been left alone.  His obsessive search for Peter had meant he kept her by his side and life was so much better and brighter when she wasn't alone.

Kraglin sighed, a hissing sound that reminded her of the way Rocket sounded when he was particularly angry.  "He ain't your master anymore."

"Of course not."  She understood, on some level, that he was no longer her master.  She knew that he was dead and gone.  It still felt wrong to speak of him without respect and reverence.  It had been part of her life so long.  She didn't understand why the others made so much fuss over the way she spoke of him.

"Good.  Owning people's wrong.  Gives me the creepy crawlies."

"When do you think Peter will wake up?"

"No idea.  Surgery's taking awhile, but cybernetics is tricky, you know?  And they never operated on a Terran before."

"Will we be allowed to see him as soon as they finish?"

"Pretty well.  They'll send someone to sit with us, look after him."

"Then he'll wake up?"

"Depends how easy he comes through surgery.  They won't want him to bust the thing loose so they might want him to sleep awhile longer.  But they might need him up to check everything's set up right.  Hard to say."

Mantis nodded.  "Will he be able to come back to the ship when he wakes up?"

"Maybe.  Dunno how much longer they gotta keep him.  He's real sick."

"I know.  Perhaps they will allow me to offer my services in some way.  Do you think his emotions will be the same after he gets the implant?"

Kraglin shrugged, his shoulders coming up near his ears before they dropped back down.  It was such an ambiguous gesture.  It meant so many things at so many different times and she couldn't yet follow the context correctly.

"Do you feel different after you got your implant?"

"Well yeah, but they had to rewire part of my brain.  They knew it'd change up my thinking some, told me so."

Mantis nodded, thinking about it.  "And you still wanted it?  Isn't your thinking what makes you you?"

"Now I'm me with a little bit of something different."

"Is this going to make Peter him with a bit of something different?"  She couldn't understand why someone would embrace a change of their fundamental self without need.  Kraglin hadn't had any true need.

"I don't know," Kraglin said.  "Probably not.  It's only going to be under the edge of his ribs.  So he can attach a magnet to charge it.  They don't use big batteries for this kind of thing and the nanites take a lot of power."

"Will it hurt?"  Sometimes, Mantis knew, things that are meant to help you and make you stronger and better hurt.  It had hurt to make her master sleep that last time.  There had been a feeling like something shattering inside her.

Her master had been her whole world, as long as she remembered and she had known, deep in her soul, that her world was ending whether her master's progeny prevailed or her master did.  If she made her master sleep, it meant destroying everything she'd ever known outside of a handful of trips to other planets.  It meant giving up everything that had made her who she was.  It had hurt, but it had been the first step towards freedom, towards her own self-determination.

"Probably some, anyway.  Surgery's never fun."

"I will help him," Mantis vowed.  She could make his pain less.  She could take it on herself so that he might have a smoother transition into his new self.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for it being so much shorter than the others. Mantis only had so much to say. I kept trying to extend it, but it came off fake and so I decided to go with just a single scene. Next, we get Rocket waking up. Fun times will be had by... approximately no one.


	7. Chapter 7

Groot didn’t remember who  _They_  were. He’d known, once, when he was larger and he would know again, when he was larger, when he could hold more. He didn’t remember where Theyhad been or what They had looked like. His memories of Them were distant, soft around the edges and seemed to drift away when he tried to hold onto them. He knew that They were different from Gamora and Drax, though Gamora and Drax were reminding him of Them.

It was easier to hold fast to the memories when there was a physical, tactile thing that he could touch to keep them in place while he examined them. That was how he knew that, whoever They were, They had been responsible for both giving him Rocket and destroying Rocket. He ran his fingers through the hair on the back of Rocket’s ear and growled at Gamora and Drax when they tried to come near. He had already bitten Drax hard enough to draw blood and he was prepared to do it again if either of them came nearer to Rocket.

He couldn’t remember Them, but he remembered being larger, though not as large as he was when he died. He remembered his hands being so much larger than they were now. He remembered a small, trembling ball of fur cradled carefully in his hands, nibbling at his fingers curiously. The fur had been softer but the face had been the same. The face had remained the same as everything else changed, as They brought his ball of fur back whimpering and bleeding time and again. He couldn’t remember how often it had happened or anything except that his ball of fur had been hurting and even if he were smaller now, less able to fight, he was not going to let it happen again. He would not allow Gamora or Drax to become Them. He couldn’t.

“Groot, I just want to make sure Rocket’s skull isn’t fractured,” Gamora said patiently, her hands up. He could see that she wasn’t armed. He didn’t care. He told her he didn’t care, that she could just fuck right off. She wasn’t getting near Rocket and if Drax had in fact hurt Rocket that badly, then Drax was going to pay. He _was_  going to get big again.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Gamora said. “I’m sorry. I need to look at him.” She tried to reach past Groot. He launched himself teeth first, wrapping vines around her wrist and biting down hard.

“Perhaps I should remove him?” Drax suggested, checking his own wound.

Groot shouted that he’d like to see him try around a mouthful of Gamora’s flesh as she tried to pry him off. “I don’t think that’s going to work,” she said, teeth bared at Groot.

"Then what do you suggest?"

She managed to get Groot free, dropping him next to Rocket.  "I think... I hope that Groot will come get us if Rocket's condition doesn't improve.  He's been moving off and on and occasionally, brain-connected cybernetics will go into a reboot cycle during and after unconsciousness.  It's unpleasant, but he should wake up shortly."

"Should we not be concerned if he wakes up without supervision?"

"He can't get off the ship without us realizing.  It should be safe enough."  Gamora stepped towards the door.  "Besides, we need to clean your wounds.  Bite wounds can turn nasty given a chance."

"I have been bitten many times," Drax said, moving to follow.

Groot didn't care how many times Drax had been bitten.  He didn't care if Gamora was worried, hardly at all.  Maybe a little.  He didn't care how much he cared.  Rocket was more important.  Rocket was his.  He made sure the others were gone, then he buried his face in Rocket's fur, scratching the back of his ear.  He begged Rocket to wake up.

If Rocket didn't wake up, then whoever They were, They had won.  It was Groot's responsibility to keep Rocket safe.  Yes, it was a responsibility given to him by Them, but They had done everything They could to hurt Rocket, to make Groot fail.  Groot would succeed, whatever it took. He'd known he would when he'd died.  It was one of his only concrete memories, one of the only feelings that had seeped into his heartwood already.  He would know it until he withered.  He didn't need to know who They were for him to know that Rocket was his.

Rocket's ear twitched lightly under his fingertips and he scratched it a little more vigorously, raising his head to watch Rocket's face.  Rocket's ears twitched in his sleep often.  Rocket's eyelids only flickered open when he was waking.  Once, Groot thought, they had stayed open when he slept, but then They had made Rocket hurt again and he had begun sleeping with his eyes shut.  He couldn't remember if that had been in the beginning or the middle.  It didn't matter.  What mattered was that Rocket was not awake.

He asked over and over for Rocket to please wake up and time passed, how much he couldn't tell.  Time was nebulous and he hadn't enough rings to measure such things, not yet.  He watched Rocket's face carefully and finally, finally, there was the tiny twitch of his eye that meant he would wake soon.  It started small, then rapidly turned into a storm of motion before Rocket sat straight upright, Groot dangling from his ears.

"I'm going to kill Drax," Rocket snarled.  He had woken angry.  He usually did.  Sometimes he woke sad or irritated, but angry was more common than anything else and Groot couldn't remember a time when he hadn't been ready to soothe Rocket every time he woke, hadn't been ready to hug him and hold him.  

He stroked Rocket's ear, mumbling against the top of his head until Rocket reached up to lift him down to where he could be seen.

"What do you mean, Quill's in surgery?  How long have I been out?" Rocket demanded.

Groot didn't know.  Time was hard.  He had slept.  Mantis and Kraglin had left.  Gamora and Drax were wounded and had left him with Rocket.  It was up to Groot and Rocket to save Peter.

"Wait, back it up, wounded?  I don't remember an actual fight."

Groot bared his teeth and growled, making Rocket laugh. 

"Oh man, that's great.  Yeah, they deserved that one.  Okay.  So we need to go bust Quill out of the hospital?"

Groot nodded. Obviously, yes.  Otherwise, They would hurt Peter.

"Wait, They're here?  Are you sure?"

Groot tipped his head to the side.  Sure?  He wasn't sure, but who else would do something like this, who else would agree to do something like  _this_?  Especially to a species they didn't know.

"You maybe got a point there.  Okay, buddy.  You think you can get me a couple things?"

Groot nodded.  They needed to move quickly or Drax and Gamora might come back.

"That's okay.  If they do, we're gonna be ready."  Rocket fished around in a pocket of his jump suit and pulled out a scrap of a thin plastic film.  "I'm gonna draw what we need and you're gonna find it, you hear me?"

Groot nodded.  Yes, he could do that.

It might take him a few tries.  It did take him a few tries.  But he did it.  And, clinging to the shell that Rocket built into his jump suits to protect his cybernetics, Groot went out into the blinding daylight to go stop Them from hurting Peter.

 

 

 

Things were much harder in the hospital proper.  It wasn't a familiar space and Groot was afraid of becoming lost.  He had no landmarks to make sure he'd be able to get from one place to another without trouble and that frightened him.  He didn't want to be too far from Rocket, but neither of them could cover enough ground on their own.  The building was large, Rocket said larger than Their building had been, though Groot could not comprehend the size of anything that much larger than he was.  He had never been able to and had often hit his head on doors because comparative size on that scale was difficult.

It was definitely Theirs, though.  The bright white hallways were too clean, too sterile.  They were lifeless and clear, free of clutter with no hiding places.  There would be no escaping Them if Rocket and Groot were seen.  It was difficult enough to hide Rocket's weapons under the poncho he'd fashioned of some fabric he hadn't yet been able to turn into clothing.  He'd used his tablet to show the worker at the front desk why he couldn't be scanned--too much of his anatomy had sensitive electronics, which was actually true--and they'd managed to get in with everything.  They had some defense against Them should They realize what was going on, but that didn't make it easier to find Peter.

Yes, they could easily find Peter's room.  The worker at the front desk had told them where to find that, where to wait with their friends, but they didn't have any friends in the hospital save for Peter.  Everyone else was helping with the experimentation.  They needed to find the experiment room and rescue Peter, escape with him.  Groot worried that they would have difficulty finding passage on a ship.  They often had, even when Groot had been large enough to hide Rocket in a nest of branches close to his trunk.  People objected so strangely to Rocket.  Groot had never understood why.  He was funny and clever and the best person to have helping you in a crisis.  Peter was in a crisis and it was up to Groot and Rocket to help him.  It was up to them to save him.  They just had to find him.

Rocket sniffed the air, nose wrinkling.  "We got a problem here.  They don't bring their victims down the halls," he muttered quietly to Groot.  "Must use another transport system to get them from point a to point b, you know?"

Groot didn't know, but he nodded anyway. 

"Don't do that.  Don't pretend you understand.  Okay.  We're gonna have to get access to the backend.  We gotta find an empty room and get in that way."

That, Groot could understand.  He knew how to hide.  He was better at it this small.  

"I think this next one should be empty.  You're gonna go in ahead of me and if someone's in there, you're gonna pretend to be lost, you got it?"

Groot wasn't sure he'd have to pretend.  He was sure if he let Rocket out of his sight he'd be lost and unable to escape.

"Well, I'll be right behind you.  Now go."

Groot stumbled into the room, peering up at the bed and the walls and everything.  There were no people and everything was so white and clean and undisturbed that it made him feel shivery and sad.  It was empty and dead, the whole room was dead.  It stretched out in front of him, horrifying and barren.  He stood frozen, going still like a rooted tree, but then Rocket rustled in behind him and Groot turned to hug him, burying his face in Rocket's thigh.

"Yeah, yeah, don't be such a sap.  We were separated like ten seconds."

It had felt longer.  It had felt worse.  Groot didn't want to be left alone in this place.  They shouldn't let it separate them.

"Yeah, I feel you there.  Okay, we're gonna have to get through this door here.  It's coded, so give me a minute."  Rocket pressed his tablet up against it and started doing something incomprehensible.  Screens were difficult to process, their pictures nothing more than an illusion that Groot remembered understanding better when he'd been larger but that he hadn't managed to properly decipher yet.

Groot climbed up Rocket to sit on his shoulder and watch.  Rocket's fingers were so quick and clever, their movement almost mesmerizing.  He leaned against the side of Rocket's head, eyes wide so he wouldn't miss anything.  Soon, the door swung open and Rocket smiled, turning just enough to look at Groot out the corner of his eye.

"Ready?"

Groot nodded.  He was more ready than he'd ever been.  They were going to save Peter.

Rocket sniffed the air, turning his head from one side to the other and his grin widened.  "I've got him.  Hold on tight.  We're gonna move fast."

Groot shifted into position, grabbing the collar of Rocket's poncho tightly, then announced his readiness.  He was not disappointed when, before the words were even out of his mouth, Rocket took off at a full, galloping run.  Groot had to clamp his mouth shut to keep from crying out joyfully as they moved, bouncing along.  Rocket took the corners without even slowing, launching himself off of walls as they whirled through a warren of hallways.  Here and there they had to dodge as they passed someone in white pyjamas on their way, but Rocket moved like his namesake, refusing to slow or consider failure.

He skidded to a halt outside a door, frowning up at the lock.  "He's in there," he whispered, looking around furtively.  "It's an analogue lock.  You're going to have to use vines.  Do you remember how?"

Groot thought about it.  He could remember breaking through locks with a hole like that before.  He'd been bigger and he'd used very small vines, ones that had looked like threads running from his fingertips.  He could remember the clunk clunk clunk vibrating along the vines and through his cambium into his sapwood.  He nodded slowly.

"You sure?"

Groot wasn't sure, but he thought it would be easier once the vines were in the lockhole.  

"It's a keyhole, but okay, if you think that's going to work, go for it."  Rocket held him up carefully with one hand, pulling a gun with the other and watching back and forth, making sure no one could catch them.

Groot extended some fine tendrils into the lock and felt it.  It was familiar and he closed his eyes, letting the sensations guide him through the act.  He could do this.  It wasn't easy, but it was doable.  He moved each tumbler until he felt it slow, then he moved the next and the next.  A fine movement and he pressed all of them to their stopping point at once and used the fingertips of his other hand to turn the lock.  It moved with a thunking click and he grinned at Rocket.

"Good job," Rocket whispered, reaching for the handle.  "On my shoulder and then we move."

Groot scrambled backwards, securing himself by reaching one arm under the poncho to cling to Rocket's shoulderstrap.  They had no idea what they'd find on the other side of the door, but it was best to be ready in case Rocket had to move quickly.  Groot asked what they would do if Peter was already cut open.

"I don't know," Rocket said.  "Hopefully they ain't got that far yet.  All right.  On three.  One.  Two.  Three!"

Rocket flung the door open and the world suddenly and abruptly went sideways as Rocket fell.  Groot shrieked, his body going stiff against Rocket's neck as they crumpled to the floor.  The paralysis was from a gun and the gun was wielded by a very nervous looking Kraglin.

"I'm gonna kill you," Rocket snarled as he lay on the floor, most muscles on his body gone lax due to the electrical overload restarting the electronics running through his spine.  Torso shots always did that to him and Groot wanted to be able to move, to comfort him.

"I'm thinkin' you probably don't really wanna.  They're saying Peter's going to be awake soon and I like to think he'd give a fuck if you killed me without his permission.  If you're here to save him, you might wanna think about that," Kraglin said.

"Nope.  I'm gonna kill you," Rocket insisted.

Groot closed his eyes.  They'd failed and now They were going to be able to do whatever They liked to Peter.  They were going to hurt him.  Groot couldn't help it.  The disappointment and sorrow and pain were too much for him when he was so small and had so little heartwood to absorb it all.  He began to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Groot was not as gleeful and happy go lucky as he could have been. He's a confusing little thing and I ADORE him. Also this is not meant to be read as Groot/Rocket, but if you wanted to, I suppose you could. I just... see them as lifemates of a very special type. You know?


End file.
